Hi. I feel like writing. No, wait. That’s not quite right. I need to write. I’ve got a headache, my breasts are sore (we’ll get to that later) I’m cranky from PMS and all I should really be doing right now is lying down and trying to nap while it’s quiet, but my body keeps dragging itself back to the computer to write. I’ve tried to fight the urge because I’m not feeling particularly funny at the moment but I’ve given up. The problem is, I really don’t have anything specific I want to write about. I just want to write. So I’ve decided that I’m going to pretend this is just a rant column and accept my PMS for what it is and just well, rant. Okay! This is actually kind of exciting! It’s like having hundreds of ears all listening to me bitch and moan at the same time! I can here you all now, “I’m right wit’cha sis’ta!” So maybe you’re not really saying that, but it made me feel good to think it! Do any of you have DISH Network? For those that do, do any of you have kids? Right now DISH and Viacom (the owners of CBS, Nick, Nick Jr, Comedy Central, some WB stations, MTV, VH1 and countless other TV stations) are in a price war. DISH thinks they’re charging too much, Viacom thinks they’re not. They can’t agree, so BAM! Our TV now has no Nick or Nick Jr. channels. Do you know what that means for a house with three kids? No Dora. No Fairly Odd Parents. No, and this is a biggie. SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! I’m virtually suicidal. But you’ll be happy to know that DISH Network has so graciously decided to give their ‘preferred’ clients $1 per month to compensate until their fight with Viacom can be settled. Yes, you read that right. $1 per month. So I’ve been trying to get through to DISH Network all day to find out if I am one of their ‘preferred’ clients because it’s not listed anywhere on my statement. Go figure. I’d also like to know if I’m contractually obligated to stay with them because if I’m not, I’m moving to Direct TV as fast as Speed Racer. A house without Spongebob is a house of hell. Unfortunately their lines are so busy I can’t get a hold of anyone. For those who have DISH, the CEO of the company is asking that you call Viacom and voice your angst and trepidation and convince them to lower their rates so you can get that $1 a month’s worth of Nick and Nick Jr. The numbers are listed all over your TV channels. Is it wrong for me to want to beat up a six year old? My son, the wonderfully sweet five year old that he is, lacks playmates in our neighborhood. There are many kids but they’re all much older than he is. Except for one. He’s six. He likes to play with Justin, mostly in our yard, on our trampoline. However, apparently he’s got a new friend (some other six year old I have yet to meet) and all of a sudden my son is a ‘baby’ and he ‘doesn’t play with babies’. I’ll show him a baby! When my son came home crying I had to suppress the urge to go out and whack the kid on the head, lecturing him about how wonderful my son is in the process. However, I’m a very mature gal and instead of getting childish and violent, I told my son that the next time that nasty little brat comes over to use my son for our trampoline, we’d just tell him we don’t play with nasty little brats. I felt much, much better. For those of you who’ve read my columns you know that I tend to have a few issues with my body. Nothing major. (Unless you ask Katrina, who thinks I’m totally psycho about my body image!) I’m Italian and I tend to lean toward the hippier side of things, with less on the top. I like to compare myself to a pear. In the past, when I had two hours a day, seven days a week to workout and I ran, biked or roller bladed during my free time I was in great shape with a great balance to my physique. Then I got married and became a mother and well, I just got busy! I’m still working out daily but not for two hours and since I broke my arm roller blading a few years ago I haven’t put my blades on for fear of falling again. So you see, combine that with the reduced metabolism of a thirty-seven year old woman and I’m feeling a bit frumpy. And I’m back to my ‘pear’ shape. I live in a somewhat well to do area where a lot of women stay home, drive their expensive cars and lunch with friends in between trips to the expensive malls. I am not one to even go to the mall and I have a much smaller house than most of the people here so I don’t consider myself too pretentious. Many of the women around here also have breast implants. Something I didn’t think I’d ever want. But that’s all changed. A few weeks ago, after seeing myself in the humungous mirror at my health club, I realized I needed some professional help. Nothing I do seems to help get rid of the pear. So off I went to the plastic surgeon. Honestly I though I’d go, get the free consultation and just write it off as a ‘maybe someday’ kind of thing. But they gave me these little round saline bags to stuff into my bra and they were like magic! I looked in the mirror and my pear shape simply disappeared! Within minutes I’d scheduled my surgery date. It was two weeks ago today. I no longer fill the bottom of an A cup. I’m a full C cup and though the experience was painful and a pain in the butt, I’m well on the road to ‘recovery’! I still have to wear what I’d consider ‘Grandma’ bras, but let me tell you, it is so much fun shopping for Grandma bras instead of water bras! I’ve always worn padded bras of some sort to help fill the top of the A cup but now I don’t have to! The other day while grocery shopping I was shocked and embarrassed to see myself pointing right out at me from the glass doors of the freezer section in Kroger. I may still wear a bit of padding because it’s just not nice to point! I’m still adjusting to the new, pearless me. And so are the guys at my health club. I walked in the other day, shocked and horrified at the stares! I’ve been going there for two years. They all KNOW I go implants because you just don’t grow breasts in a matter of days. My friend Mary made it all clear for me though. She said, “Carolyn, they’ve all stared at you before. You just didn’t really notice. It doesn’t matter if you’re an A or a C, they’re going to stare.” She’s right and because of her comments, I’m adjusting better than I expected! Kathy Hardeman on the other hand, is struggling with the whole thing. When you have implants you have to massage them often to keep them from getting hard and to keep them looking natural. I often comment that I have to massage my breasts and the mental picture makes her incredibly uncomfortable! My son, (the wonderful boy I mentioned earlier) continues to tell even strangers, “My mommy got big boobies”. Lovely. Am I the only one who thinks Carly is a true idiot for not givin’ up Sonny on the witness stand during the stupidest custody trial of the year? That’s all I can say about GH right now because… Well darn it! I can’t write anymore! It’s time to start dinner and even though I’d rather write and rant, I’ve got a responsibility to my children to attempt to feed them something so they don’t whine at me! Thanks for letting me vent. Vent writing is excellent therapy. You should try it some time!
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